Curiouser and Curiouser (and Definitely Not Boring)
by IAmTheRedLady
Summary: Sherlock follows his dog through his fireplace and discovers an improbable, but perhaps not impossible, land. (Sherlock in Wonderland, Johnlock. Might possibly hint that Mary Morstan is Not Nice. AO3 crosspost.)


Sherlock was bored as he sat in his living room on his laptop, scrolling through his blog. No cases, no mysteries to solve. How perfectly dull.

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear," Sherlock heard a voice say. He whipped around to see an Irish setter in his living room, looking nervously at the clock on his mantle. "I'm late! I'm late! For a very important date!" the dog fretted.

"Redbeard!" Sherlock exclaimed.

Redbeard looked at Sherlock in surprise, startled, and darted into Sherlock's fireplace.

"Wait!" Sherlock exclaimed, getting up from his chair and crawling after him, through the ashes. Where he expected to find the inner wall of his chimney, he found instead the gateway to a long corridor, containing door after door after door, in all different colors and sizes and styles. Redbeard was nowhere to be seen.

Sherlock turned to look behind him and saw that his fireplace had disappeared, and now there was only solid wall in its place. "Definitely not boring," he mused to himself. "Billy shall miss me terribly now, but being a skull, I'm sure he'll manage."

Sherlock tried to open every door, but they were all locked. "Oh, how tedious," Sherlock grumbled. Then, at the end of the long hallway, Sherlock spied a tiny door that had mostly certainly not been there a second ago. Sherlock marched over to it and tried to open it, but it too was locked. Frustrated, Sherlock pulled on the doorknob hard.

"Ouch!" the Door yelped. "Do you normally go around yanking people's noses, young man?"

Sherlock blinked and stepped back. "I'm terribly sorry, madam."

The Door harrumphed. "You're lucky I don't take that out of your rent."

His...what? Never mind. "Look, how do I open you?" Sherlock asked impatiently.

"With the key, of course," the Door laughed squeakily.

Sherlock looked around and was surprised to see a table behind him (how did things keep appearing out of thin air?) with a small key upon it, obviously made to unlock the small talking Door. He picked it up and placed the end of it in the Door's (mouth?) keyhole, and turned.

The Door swung open to reveal a lovely garden. Sherlock, quickly becoming bored with the hall of locked doors, wished to explore it, but he was much too large to fit through the Door.

"One side will make you smaller, the other will make you taller," said a lazy voice.

Sherlock turned to see that a large mushroom had appeared in the hallway, with a great big, bored looking Caterpillar sitting on it. "One side of what? The other side of what?" Sherlock said.

"The _mushroom_ , you idiot. Why can't people just think?" the Caterpillar sulked.

"And what happens if I refuse to choose?" said Sherlock.

The Caterpillar pulled out a gun and pointed it at him.

"That's not a real gun," Sherlock declared.

The Caterpillar reluctantly put the gun away. "Come on. Aren't you even a little curious?"

Sherlock, not one to back down from a challenge, broke off a piece from each side of the mushroom. He inspected the pieces in his hand, and finally, bit from the piece in his left hand.

He'd chosen the right piece.

Sherlock immediately found himself small enough to fit through the door, but when he turned to go through it, he found it was locked once again, and the key was on the table where he couldn't reach. "Oh, for God's sake!" Sherlock spat.

"You could always take the shortcut, my dear," said a soft voice from up above. Sherlock turned to see a Cheshire Cat sitting in a high tree branch, leering down at him.

Sherlock glared at him. "And how exactly do I take this little shortcut of yours?"

"Oh, it's easy, Sherlock," the Cheshire Cat grinned menacingly. "Just remember, it's not the fall that kills you...it's the _landing!_ "

Sherlock yelped as the Cheshire Cat pushed a small branch (a secret lever), opening the floor beneath him. Sherlock was tumbling, tumbling, tumbling...

 _Floomp._ Sherlock landed on a pile of cushions.

"How rude of you to drop in unannounced," said a lofty voice.

Sherlock looked up to see that he had landed at a long banquet table, laden with tea things and a great many gourmet delicacies. Sitting beside him was a plump Hatter.

Sherlock scowled at him. "Shut up, fatty."

The Fat Hatter sipped his tea imperiously and asked Sherlock, "Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

"I-I don't know," Sherlock said in surprise. "That's just nonsense."

"It's not nonsense. It's perfectly simple, unless you're stupid," the Hatter smirked.

"I'm _not_ stupid," Sherlock protested. Suddenly, a barking cry of "I'm late, I'm late! Oh, the Queen shall have me put down!" caught his attention as Redbeard ran by.

" _Cherchez la chien._ Better run, little Sherlock," said the Fat Hatter. "The East Wind's coming. It's coming to _get you_."

Sherlock clambered to his feet, and took off after the dog.

Sherlock ran through what felt like miles and miles of forest, till he stumbled into a clearing where court was being held, presided over by a cold looking blonde woman in red, wearing a crown.

"Who are you?" said the Queen of Hearts. "How dare you invade us like this? Don't you know no one wants you around?"

The Cheshire Cat's head appeared next to the Queen. "Off with his head," he whispered in her ear.

"An excellent idea. Off with his head," declared the Queen of Hearts, pulling out a gun to shoot Sherlock.

"I don't think so," said another voice.

Sherlock's hand was grabbed by another, and he looked up into the face of the handsome Knave of Hearts. The Knave grinned roguishly at him, his denim blue eyes sparkling, and Sherlock's heart fluttered. "Come on, love."

The Knave pulled him to his feet and they ran off together, the Queen and the Cat and their network shrieking after them. They disappeared into a maze of shrubbery. The Knave laughed wheezily. "That was the most ridiculous thing...I've ever done," he gasped.

"And you invaded the Queen's court," Sherlock panted, giggling.

The Knave, grinning flirtatiously, making Sherlock's stomach do acrobatics, pushed him against the bushes and kissed him. Sherlock moaned approvingly and kissed him back, winding his arms around his neck. "Time to wake up, gorgeous," the Knave muttered against his lips.

And then Sherlock was sitting in his living room in 221B Baker Street, in his chair, his laptop on his thighs, and John was kissing him. John chuckled and pulled back, sensing Sherlock coming to. "Have a nice dream?" he asked teasingly.

"At the end it was," said Sherlock, smiling.

"You must have fallen asleep looking for cases," said John, shutting Sherlock's computer and putting it away for him. "Mrs. Hudson said she came in to check on you and you pinched the hell out of her nose!"

"Oh no!" Sherlock exclaimed, starting to get up. "I need to go apologize-"

"You can do that later," said John, taking his hand. "Right now you and I are going to bed, mister."

"But I'm not tired, John," Sherlock pouted.

John grinned mischievously. "Good. Neither am I."

Sherlock grinned back, allowing John to pull him close for another kiss. "You knave," he murmured.


End file.
